Scarred Identity
by SeraphJewel
Summary: She had many names: Whiskey, Claire Saunders, countless others. This is her story.
1. Prologue

_Disclaimer: Dollhouse is owned by Joss Whedon. All I own are my words that I use to write about this awesome show._

_**Prologue**_

Her bare feet moved purposefully over the cold floor. The white nightgown she wore fluttered around her ankles. A phantom haunting the abandoned House.

It was loud here, so incredibly loud. It wasn't supposed to be like that here. Quiet, comfortable, safe. That was the world they built, the world she knew. Unwanted guests were invading the world. This happened before, but differently. That time they were more subtle. The mission was to manipulate and change. Now there was only one goal: destruction.

She found the control panel. She- or part of her- remembered its function.

For emergency use only. A failsafe that they all hoped they would never have to engage. She punched in the numbers without hesitation.

She made her way back to the main room. Already things were quieter. She rested her hands on the raining for support as she watched. Butchers. She remembered their name now. They cut people up and left them broken. She didn't like people who did such things.

She needed to stay and wait. Someone had to be here who knew the right numbers. Deep down they all knew this day would come. That was why the failsafe was there, and why she knew the numbers. This place was her home for a very long time. In her mind she had always lived here. It was important to her and so many others. She wouldn't let these butchers taint it.

She took slow, even breaths. Was the fog her own clouded vision or the growing smoke billowing out? Eventually she was forced to sit. Her legs dangled into the free air and she rested her head on the railing. All around her bodies were crumbling to the floor, weapons clattering loudly out of their limp hands.

Everything's going to be all right. She couldn't recall who said this but it was always comforting. Faces swirled in her mind. She knew all of their names, somehow. They were all coming to say goodnight.

She was better than her best. She earned a sleep she wouldn't have to wake from.


	2. A Poem

_**A Poem**_

Beautiful young woman

In a beautiful world

Living her life, as it were

The road gets long, twisted, dark

Trapped with no way out

Except one

No clichés here

Blue pill, red pill. Down the rabbit hole

She's English; she serves tea. Very proper. Soft-spoken. Controlled

Adelle DeWitt

There's a piece of paper, a contract

So clean. Simple. Easy

Sign and it will all go away

Back to a beautiful world only this time it will be even better

A wonderful dream that she won't have to wake from for five years

Such a short time to give away

Beautiful young woman signs a contract

Light, wires, pain

Piece by piece they pull her away

It hurts

Adam and Eve felt pain when they were banished from Paradise

_O Felix Culpa_. Oh happy fall. Fortunate. Better

She chose to go back. Back to Paradise, to ignorance, to bliss

Taken away from the world; from herself

Nothing remains

Just a shell. A Doll

_Tabula Rasa_

What is her name?

"Your name is Whiskey"


	3. Doll

_**Doll**_

When she woke up her eyes would focus on a wall. She lay curled up in a fetal position inside a pod. She liked sleeping in the pods. They were comfortable and safe. A glass door was above her. It slid open, allowing her to get up.

She and the others in the pods around her filed in for breakfast. Today they were having blueberry pancakes. She liked blueberries. They were naturally sweet.

Some of the others sat together while others sat alone. She noticed that Alpha always sat alone. She liked being alone sometimes. It was peaceful. But being alone all the time seemed sad to her. She often found friends she could sit with. Friends helped each other out.

After breakfast the others would go their separate ways. She changed into her swimsuit and used the pool. It was a long rectangular strip of water perfect for doing laps. She could already do twenty laps. It was important to exercise. She always tried to do her best.

She got out of the pool and saw the woman she trusted most.

"It's time for your treatment, Whiskey."

She liked getting her treatments. They helped keep her at her best. She dried herself and changed into warm clothes, then obediently followed the woman up the stairs. She entered a room and saw a man standing there. He had on a shirt and something fuzzy over it. She thought it was strange.

"Hello, Whiskey," he greeted her. His voice sounded nice. Very calming. He had nice hair, too. "Have a seat, please." He asked so politely she was happy to comply. The chair felt cool against her skin.

Slowly the chair started to lower until she was fully reclined. There was a bright flash of light and her body jerked.

When the light faded she saw the man standing near her. The machine whirred to a halt and the chair was moving back up. The man looked different: he was wearing a long-sleeved shirt with a collar now.

"Hello, Whiskey," he greeted her in that soft, calming voice. She felt safer listening. "How are you feeling?"

"Did I fall asleep?" she wondered. She must have, for him to have different clothes on.

"For a little while."

"Shall I go now?"

"If you like," he nodded.

She slid out of the chair and quietly padded to the open door. A thought floated through her mind: she saw that man often when she woke up. Not in the pods but in the chair. She felt like she should know his name, but for some reason she didn't.

The woman she trusted most was waiting for her outside the room. She said to go see Dr. Saunders.

Dr. Saunders was an older man who wore glasses. He was different from the one she saw when she woke up in the chair. He never changed his clothes. Whenever she saw him Dr. Saunders always wore a white coat.

Dr. Saunders asked her to sit on a table and take deep breaths. Sometimes he would examine her whole body or apply a bandage. He talked to her a lot while she did this. He asked about her eating habits, if she exercised daily, and so on.

When she left Dr. Saunders gave her a lollipop. Dr. Saunders was nice.

In art class they gave everyone a small tree and a pair of scissors. The idea was to clip off parts of the tree to make it into art. Taking parts away made the tree more beautiful.

Her tree looked like it grew since the last time she was in art class. Did that make the tree less beautiful?

She only clipped off a few branches before it was time for the next meal. This time they were eating salad with dressing and croutons, and strips of meat on top. It tasted very good.

Sometimes she liked to take a book and look at the pictures. Flowers, sky, animals, bodies of water… There were many interesting things to look at. Sometimes she drew her own pictures. She drew her friends, Dr. Saunders, the woman she trusted and the man who always changed his clothes. Sometimes she went in a room and did yoga with others. Sometimes she had a massage.

They all filed back into the room with the pods. The pods all looked the same but she knew which one belonged to her. She slid inside, curling up into a fetal position. Slowly the glass slid over her head to close her in. The space was small to keep her safe.

She closed her eyes and had no dreams.


	4. Number One

_**Number One**_

They nearly exhausted the alphabet by the time she came in. There were only ever twenty-six Actives in the Dollhouse, so she was lucky they even had the space. Or unlucky, depending on how one looked at it.

Her entrance into the House was fairly standard. She was brought into the conference room where she and Adelle discussed the contract. After she signed it she was brought into the imprinting room. The first time was the worst for everyone.

But then she was blank and they sent her on her way with a figurative pat on the head.

Whiskey was assigned a female handler. Most of the Actives were paired with a handler of the opposite gender. However, this wasn't always the case. Such as with Alpha: he had a male handler. Whiskey could have been assigned a male handler as well, but there was strong insisted that she be given a female.

Her first client requested her in a romantic engagement. It was seen as a good sign for the future.

"This is a beautiful place," she commented. She thought her name was Leona, and though she only met Charlie earlier that morning she found herself very attracted to him. They were sitting together outside near a fountain. The sound of falling water was very soothing.

"You're even more beautiful than that, Leona," Charlie replied, lifting his coffee cup in a toast to her. She let out a soft laugh as she mimicked his gesture.

"I'm going to let that cheesy line slide."

"Hey, give me a break," he chided playfully. "I don't do this very often." She smiled, sipping her coffee carefully to avoid being burned. "You ever do that thing where you throw a coin over your shoulder into a fountain and make a wish?" Charlie asked her after a moment of comfortable silence.

"No." The smile on her lips grew even wider. She dug a coin out of her pocket. "I feel you should do something new every day. This can be my new thing for the day." She stood up, walking over to the fountain. She closed her eyes, clutching the coin tightly as she made her wish. She tossed the coin over her shoulder.

"What'd you wish for, Leona?" Charlie asked her.

"If I tell you, it won't come true," she retorted. Charlie laughed at that and once she was close enough, he took her in his arms and kissed her.

Whatever the engagement, it was crucial for the first one to come off as a complete success. If the client was even marginally displeased with the Active it was unlikely they would request the same one again, and they wouldn't pass on the information to friends and business associates. Needless to say, Whiskey's first engagement was a success.

Clients began requesting Whiskey on a regular basis. She was becoming especially popular with romantic engagements, though she was used for business deals and fancy dinner parties as well. Like every other Doll in the House she was meant to be a Jane-of-all-trades. She went from a thrill-seeker to a shy girl to a savvy socialite to a serious FBI agent to a prim librarian, and so forth into infinity.

"Hey, Whiskey!" Topher greeted her when he saw the Doll walking toward his door. "We have to stop running into each other like this."

"I am supposed to get a treatment," Whiskey answered with a slightly puzzled lilt in her voice. "Am I no longer getting a treatment?"

"No, no," Topher said hurriedly, waving his hands. "I mean, yes! Of course you are! I was just making a joke." Of course he should've known that jokes were beyond a Doll's understanding but for some reason Topher still made the effort.

Whiskey continued to hover in the doorway. She seemed unsure of what to do. "I am supposed to get a treatment," she repeated quietly.

"Yes, that's right!" Topher agreed, clasping his hands together. "Go ahead and take a seat." She obediently crossed the room and settled into the chair. Her handler hovered close by as Topher fished out the appropriate personality wedge. Whiskey tilted her head to the side to watch him.

"I know you," she realized.

"Ahhh." Topher gave the Doll a nervous little smile. "Yes, you do." The conversation ended there as Topher activated the wedge. "Another romantic engagement," he noted to Whiskey's handler. "She's been getting a lot of those lately."

"Yep." The handler couldn't help but take on a measure of pride in her Active. "My girl is very popular. She's going to be the number one requested Active in the House if she keeps this up."

That prediction soon came to pass. Only six months into her contract and Whiskey was acquiring more business than any other Active. If she was doing this well so early, one could only imagine how she would do after a year's worth of loyal clients.

It would seem that Whiskey was only popular because she was knew. That might have been true at first but she kept staying popular even after her new Doll shine wore off. There was simply something about Whiskey that attracted clients. Her big brown eyes, perhaps. Or maybe the way she smiled, or her voice. Whatever it was, it turned Whiskey into a walking gold mine.

When her true self woke up five years later, she would find herself a very rich woman.

A year down and four more to go. The number one Active was just getting started.


	5. Alpha's Gifts

_**Alpha's Gifts**_

Her shoulder hurt so the woman she trusted most took her to see Dr. Saunders. He was so nice. He gave her a lollipop while he examined her.

"I keep recommending a week of rest," he said.

"Our number-one Active?" her handler snorted. "The boss lady would never hear of it."

"I try to do my best," Whiskey informed them both.

"I'm sure you do," Dr. Saunders agreed fondly. Her handler was called away but Whiskey didn't mind; she felt safe with Dr. Saunders. "It looks like you're getting a new friend," he noted.

"Friends are nice," Whiskey observed.

"Yes, they are." Dr. Saunders patched up her shoulder and sent Whiskey on her way. She walked out to find Alpha standing alone watching someone. The new friend Dr. Saunders spoke of, perhaps.

"She's sad," Alpha noted.

"Dr. Saunders is nice," Whiskey replied, twirling her lollipop between her fingers.

She didn't meet her new friend until later. The girl's name was Echo. She was given a male handler. Whiskey saw her in yoga and art class. Sometimes they sat together to eat.

"Alpha is alone," Echo told her during one meal.

"Alpha is always alone," Whiskey responded. "I like to be alone sometimes," she added after a moment.

"It's peaceful," Echo agreed. The two fell silent as they returned to their meal. They were eating noodles in some kind of white sauce, and vegetables. The white sauce tasted so good that Whiskey dipped her vegetables in it.

"Whiskey. Echo." The two glanced up to see a woman in white standing in front of them. "Topher would like to see you both for a treatment," she announced. Their handlers were close by waiting to escort them. The Actives obediently rose to their feet and ascended the stairs together.

Most of the time Whiskey was given treatments by herself, but sometimes another Active was given one with her. One time the other Active was Alpha. This time it was with Echo. Whiskey liked getting her treatments; it was even better with her friends. Friends helped each other out.

One day Whiskey, Alpha and Echo were all taking art class together. They each had a small tree in front of them. Whiskey's tree looked like it had grown again since the last time she was here.

"I like trees," Echo announced to the room. A woman walked up to Whiskey.

"Whiskey, would you like a treatment?"

"Yes, please," she replied.

"Clean up your station and you can go." Whiskey set down her scissors and delicately brushed away the bits of tree she managed to cut away. "She's going out again. She's never going to finish that tree, and it's a small tree."

"That's my girl," her handler boasted proudly. "Number one in the House."

"Whiskey?" She glanced up to see Alpha standing in front of her. She offered him a small smile. "Let Echo be number one." He lashed out and Whiskey cried out at the sudden burst of pain.

It all happened so quickly. Alpha's body was heavy as he pushed her down on her back. She screamed but he didn't stop. The blade was cold and sharp against her skin. It hurt but she didn't know how to stop him. Finally Alpha was pulled off her body.

Things were happening around her. She didn't notice.

All the other Actives in the art room were ushered away. Some of them had dirt on their bodies from the overturned trees. They all decided to take a shower.

There was so much noise. Yelling, screaming, people running… Whiskey sobbed brokenly. It hurt so badly and it wasn't stopping. Someone was there with her but she couldn't make sense of their words. Where was Dr. Saunders?

"Whiskey." It was the woman she trusted most. She recognized the voice, though her vision was blurred by tears and blood. "Whiskey, everything's going to be all right." The woman tried to touch her. Whiskey shrank away, screaming. "Everything's going to be all right," the woman tried again. But it wasn't. Nothing was all right.

Bodies were piling up. Dominic organized those who were left to clear out the ones in the imprint room. Topher watched numbly. For once he wasn't babbling but he was sure to start again once he got over the shock. He had good reason to be shocked: Alpha went nuts on his watch, killed right in front of his eyes.

"Ma'am, Samuelson hasn't checked in yet," Dominic reported.

"Do another sweep," Adelle instructed. He nodded and was about to leave when they were interrupted by Whiskey's handler.

"Ma'am, I can't get Whiskey to calm down. None of the trigger phrases are working." A hopeless silence fell. What could they do for her? She was attacked by someone she was told was a friend. Friends were supposed to help each other out, not hurt each other.

"Can I see her?" Topher asked tentatively. Adelle raised an eyebrow at him. "I think I can help her," he explained. She nodded and Topher followed Whiskey's handler into the art room.

Whiskey was still there. Blood was all over her face and neck. Tears made messy streaks down her cheeks. When she saw Topher her eyes flickered in recognition. She grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him forward. Shakily she buried her face in his stomach.

"Hello, Whiskey," he whispered. He didn't know what else to say.

"I don't understand," she choked out. "I tried to do my best."

"I know," Topher murmured, patting her awkwardly on the head. "I know." She seemed calmer so he extracted her from his shirt. It was stained with her blood now. Her eyes flicked up to meet his.

"I know you," she realized.

"Yes, you do," he agreed. He looked around helplessly. Adelle was hovering, watching. "Whiskey, I'm going to be over there for a while. Your handler will watch you."

"I tried to do my best," was all she said. Topher gave her another awkward pat before moving away.

"The best I can do is wipe her," he told Adelle. "What are we going to do about her injuries with no Dr. Saunders?" Adelle didn't answer. She was looking at Whiskey thoughtfully. "Adelle?" Topher probed.

"We excel in giving people what they need," she said at last, "and what we need is a doctor." She turned to Topher, waiting for him to catch on.

"You want me to-"

"As soon as possible, please." With that she walked off, leaving Topher with the broken doll.

Later Topher was back in the imprint room. They had a backup wedge for Dr. Saunders, of course, but he couldn't use most of it. He was practically building this imprint from scratch. Giving her the right protocol plus memories of Alpha's attack to make sense of her scars, and of course past memories of the departed doctor without the gender distinction.

"Whiskey is ready for her treatment," her handler announced. Topher looked up and saw that the girl's face was cleaned up, a lab coat draped over her shoulders.

"Have a seat, please," Topher instructed her.

"I like my treatments," she told him. He forced a smile as she settled into the chair. He turned on the machine and watched her jerk under the light. Topher watched this happen so many times but somehow this one made his stomach twist.

The machine whirred to a halt. The chair slowly raised up again. Topher waited apprehensively. The woman got out of the chair, straightening her lab coat. She took out the band keeping her hair up in a ponytail and it fell out in gentle curves.

"Dr. Saunders?" Topher asked uncertainly. She turned, her eyes giving him a once-over.

"Change your shirt," she instructed. "That's hardly hygienic." She walked out without another word.

"…Well," Topher breathed out. "Guess _that_ imprint took."


	6. Phantom

_**Phantom**_

For a self-proclaimed genius, he really could be quite foolish. Probably the best example of this was his play-room. Pinball machine, dart board, trampoline, video game system… Adding all that with the couch and refrigerator and one had a nearly thirty-year-old child who refused to move out of his parents' house. The fact that his clothes were a pathetic mix of scruff and the type his mother would pick out for him only helped the image.

Admittedly Topher Brink _was_ a genius, in some ways. Before he came to the Dollhouse the record for a successful imprint was two hours. Topher beat that record to a pulp. He was very finicky about the imprints. His system probably wouldn't make sense to anyone else but he always knew where everything was. Topher's way of dealing with the Dolls was actually much more humane than what went on in other Houses.

But he was still the one who went through cases of juice boxes and ate inappropriate amounts of starches. How could anyone make sense of that?

She started by observing his entire work space and the adjoining room. Topher kept his computers and the chair in prime working order. No dust or risk of overheating. The computers themselves were protected with enough firewalls to discourage the most determined hacker. Did Topher have this much security before Alpha?

Claire was pleased that Topher took at least part of his job seriously. Even if it was too late for some.

A lot of things changed after Alpha. Heightened security was only one of those things. Their hiring methods was another. Since Echo somehow escaped Alpha's massacre, she was given a former cop as her new handler. They did background checks on the clients and Dominic was extra-aware of any glitches in the Actives.

They all worried about the House, and Claire Saunders was alone in worrying about the Actives.

That was why she took such an interest in Topher. Aside from herself and the handlers, he was the one who worked most with the Actives. And the more Claire watched him, the more she became convinced that he was the only one in the House not taking his job seriously. The handlers understood their job as protectors; Saunders understood hers as medic. But Topher? He was just a programmer playing with computers. Or as Langton put it once, a magician stuffing rabbits into empty hats.

Topher never seemed to go home. There were times when he came downstairs to interact with the other employees but most of the time he stayed holed up in his little play room. He even had bed sheets and a pillow to sleep with. It made sense to her. Though they were interviewing for an assistant, Topher was still the one who knew the technology best. With engagements running around the clock someone had to be here to work the imprints.

Claire Saunders and Topher Brink: two people who never left the Dollhouse.

There were three main types of engagements: romantic, altruistic, and risk. Altruistic engagements weren't always an option but Claire insisted on them, stating that it was vital for any human's mental state even if said human was only a Doll. After every engagement, no matter what the type, Claire examined the Actives and wrote up reports on anything she deemed important enough for Adelle and Topher to know.

"Dr. Saunders." Topher stood in her office, looking awkward as ever. Why did he only behave that way around her?

"Topher," she returned, her mood venturing toward amusement.

"Hi," he waved.

"Hello." There was a definite upward quirk of her lips now.

"So, I was looking- _glancing_, and I noticed… Victor."

"You noticed Victor," Claire repeated patiently. Talking to Topher was like talking to a child.

"He was in the shower and he… was naked."

"Victor was naked in the shower." She couldn't understand why it was such a struggle for him to come out with it. Even when he did he insisted on being childish by calling it a man-reaction. Honestly, a "man-reaction"? How old was he?

As absurd as that conversation felt at the time, it was one of those rare moments when Claire almost enjoyed Topher's company.

During the investigation to a spy in the Dollhouse, Echo asked her an interesting question: _Do you even have any friends outside the Dollhouse?_ Claire didn't have an answer at the time and when she was in her office later she mulled it over and still didn't have an answer. The truth was she didn't even _know_ anyone outside the Dollhouse. Adelle, Topher, Boyd, Dominic, Echo, Victor, Sierra, November, Mike, Tango, Foxtrot… She could go on but the list would never reach beyond these walls.

She didn't have any friends. But then, neither did Topher.

This year for his annual anterior insular cortex diagnostic, Boyd allowed him the use of Sierra. The rest of the House was idle in the aftermath of Dominic's betrayal. Claire watched as Topher and the imprinted Sierra played together. Laser tag, football, chess, video games… Topher was always so flighty with everyone but not with imprinted Sierra. He was at ease. He was happy.

Claire never liked Topher. In fact, she found the need to argue with him as often as the opportunity presented itself. But watching him with Sierra gave way to a new emotion that didn't make any sense: jealousy.

Perhaps it was just seeing that Topher could make friends for himself while Claire could not that made her jealous. Yes, that must have been it…


	7. Frankenstein's Monster

_**Frankenstein's Monster**_

The title referred to a man. Victor, to be specific. She found that to be very humorous. Claire knew she read the book long ago but her memory of it was very fuzzy, so she requested a copy from Boyd. Reading it now, it amazed her how something written nearly two centuries ago could still ring true.

Hollywood bastardized the tale. These days people believed that the title referred to the creation. If only they knew that the creation had no name…

Adelle ordered that Victor be imprinted with Dominic's personality. Once he realized what was happening to him Dominic lost it. Saunders struggled to sedate him. Wild-eyed, Victor stared right at her scarred face. He uttered a word:

"Whiskey."

"It appears he wants a drink instead," she mused.

The incident quickly left her mind. There were much more pressing matters to focus on.

It was a quiet night in the Dollhouse. After they wiped Victor she didn't have much to do. Feeling restless with thoughts of Alpha, Claire roamed the floor. That was when she found Victor. His pod was in shatters and he sat in the remains, shaking.

She guided him into her office as calmly as she could. Then he was there. Alpha. Quick as ever, his knife cut into Victor's skin. Claire was frozen in shock and terror. She wanted to scream but she couldn't. She was getting a flash of his weight pinning her down, his eyes wild as he looked down on her. She trembled, sobbing in fear. He was so close to her, his knife glistening and still fresh with Victor's blood.

"Have you always wanted to be a doctor?" He loomed over her like a dark shadow. "It's a simple question. Answer now."

"Yes," she whispered.

"That's a lie," he remarked. But not an accusation, just observing the facts.

Only after Claire was sure he was out of the House could she think again. Her first thoughts were for Victor. The Doll lay bleeding on her floor, frightened and in pain. He needed her help.

"It hurts," Victor murmured.

"It won't always," she assured him. She dabbed at his scars, trying to breathe and remain calm. His scars looked much more serious than hers. Deeper, according to Alpha.

"I'm no longer my best," Victor said. Claire thought she could hear sorrow in his tone. "I want to be my best. How can I be my best now?" In her mind's eye Claire traveled back to a time long ago. A bleeding girl weeping into a man's shirt. She looked pleadingly into his eyes.

_I don't understand. I tried to do my best._

"Dr. Saunders? How can I be my best, please?"

"You can't, Victor!" she snapped. She turned on him with malice. "You're ugly. You're disgusting. All you can hope for now is pity, and for that you have to look somewhere else."

There was so much venom in her voice she hardly recognized herself. She regretted her words moments after they left her mouth. She called Victor back and offered him a lollipop. They were in the same position now: scarred, broken… No longer worth anything.

Later she stood in Topher's domain making sense of everything that happened. Alpha was gone, taking Echo with him. When he went on his first rampage Alpha spared Echo and no one knew why. Now on his return Alpha abducted an imprinted Echo but no one knew why or which imprint.

"He asked me if I always wanted to be a doctor," Claire said. Topher responded with his usual nervous smile. He always seemed nervous around her.

"Who can comprehend the mind of a crazy person?"

"The one who made him crazy," she answered, "maybe."

They all thought Alpha used one of Echo's imprints. But Topher discovered it was another Active entirely. Whiskey. Listening, Claire's mind flashed back to the imprinted Dominic. He looked into her eyes and uttered a word: Whiskey. He wasn't asking for a drink; he was saying a name.

She kept the computer screen window open so it was the first thing Topher saw when he came back in the room. Her smiling, unscarred face right before his eyes.

"I think you gave me more computer skills than would be required of a medical doctor," she began quietly. "It was very easy for me to hack into your system." She watched him, measuring his reaction. He could clearly see the picture of what she was before smiling at him from the computer screen. His breathing became irregular.

"I mean, I can understand not wanting to waste an investment," Saunders continued. "And why go through the trouble of hiring a new physician when you can just imprint the broken doll?" There was something in Topher's eyes she'd never seen before. Tears? Pain? Guilt? All of the above, perhaps. Claire could see she was hurting him and she coldly continued.

"But why did you think it was so important for me to hate you?" She let that question sink in and added, "I find that strange." Feeling satisfied with that, she turned to walk away.

"You didn't open it," he croaked out. She paused; there were definitely tears misting in Topher's eyes. "Aren't you curious to see who you really are?"

"I know who I am," she answered.


	8. Mind Games

_**Mind Games**_

Slowly her fingers traced over the lines that cut into her face. Different every time, he said. That meant the scars made her unique. In that way Claire was grateful for them. The personality belonged to a deceased doctor and the programming belonged to Topher, but these scars belonged to her. They where what made her Claire Saunders… Whatever that meant.

What _did_ that mean? Who could fathom the mind of a crazy person? The one who made him crazy. Topher made her what she was. But she still hadn't decided what to make of this revelation. Ivy called him the "boy-god of all things neuro" but Claire refused to elevate him to the status of a god.

All Claire knew for certain about Topher was that she hated him. She always disliked him, though at the time it was because of their opposing positions in dealing with the Actives: Claire cared for the person while Topher toyed with the mind. He didn't view them as people but Claire assumed that was a character flaw since he seemed inadequate in dealing with actual people as well. Something the two of them had in common.

It didn't sit well with her that she would have anything in common with him. There was nothing she liked about Topher. His hair was boyish, his rambling was annoying, even his smell… Claire could understand having her disagree with him but to make every aspect of his person offensive to her? Why on earth would he do that?

Claire heard him call her a phantom on a few occasions. He spoke it in jest but now she could truly act the part. Haunt him, for lack of a better phrase. She already learned she could easily hack into his system so it was only one step more to play with his program. She knew enough about him to torment him and watched in the shadows as the events played out.

He was unraveling, unsure of what she would do next. Suddenly the genius wasn't so smart after all. But Topher insisted that he didn't program her to hate him. Her protocol was to disagree, to add a different perspective so the Dollhouse would never miss anything. Hating Topher was an evolution beyond the programming. Not something he intended to happen.

Claire simply assumed on some deep level he wanted it as some sort of masochistic punishment. But he didn't. It almost seemed like it hurt Topher to see her hate him.

The Dollhouse excelled in giving people what they needed. What did Topher need from her?

It was late at night. No engagements were expected to be completed until the following morning. The Dollhouse was quiet, all Actives secure in their pods and sleeping without dreams. She made her way barefoot across the floor and up the stairs. She knew her way there by heart. When she arrived she found him asleep on the floor. She pulled back the sheet without disturbing him and was surprised in his choice in sleepwear. Somehow she was expecting something much less mature than a T-shirt and a pair of boxers.

Claire positioned herself on top of him close enough to feel his breath on her lips. The thought of kissing him made her inwardly cringe but it would be her own choice, not like when she was programmed to kiss Alpha. He didn't have much by way of physique and she doubted he would be a competent lover but that didn't matter. She could give him a "man-reaction" and then maybe he would-

"Ahh!" Topher's eyes snapped open, his body going rigid underneath her. "What… what are you…" He scrambled away as he struggled for words. "What are you _doing_?" he finally managed.

"What do you think?" she asked patiently. She understood that he was inexperienced but even an idiot would figure it out.

"No. No, no, no, no, no. You can't be-"

"Topher…" She put a soft purr to his name as she rose to her feet. "I was once Number One. I can give you pleasure." She closed in on him and he didn't seem to know how to fend her off.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, his voice weak.

"Don't you want me?" she murmured, fitting her body against his. She placed her hand over his heart and could feel it race. "Don't you think I'm beautiful?"

"Stop!" Topher yelped. He pulled himself together enough to slip away. "This isn't you. You don't want this." He was right about that.

"But do you?" Claire persisted. "Do _you_ want this?"

"No. No, definitely not." She stood there not knowing what to say or do or feel. Then she quietly walked away.

_You're ugly. You're disgusting. All you can hope for now is pity._ Her own scathing words snapped back at her. It hurt. She didn't expect it to hurt like this. Victor had deeper scars than she yet he was back to being a contributing Active in the Dollhouse. One couldn't even tell he'd ever been damaged.

Yet she was allowed to remain damaged and not even a man as desperately lonely as Topher wanted her. Claire sat in a corner so no one would see her weep.

It hurt so badly and she was scared. She was frightened of so many things. Crowds, noises, open spaces, Alpha… They were all fears that kept her in the Dollhouse. Another part of Topher's programming, no doubt. No, she couldn't always fall to Topher when she saw some unpleasant part of herself. It was just an excuse.

Topher said he programmed her to be everything he wasn't. But he rejected her, so what did that make her? Claire didn't want to go back in the chair and forget the truth about herself. She didn't want the scars to be taken away. She didn't want Claire Saunders to die.

She would never get any understanding through Topher no matter what sort of games she played. She needed to stop using excuses and discover for herself.


	9. Boyd

_**Boyd**_

She saw no reason to breach the professional distance set up between herself and everyone else. Her priority was the health of the Actives and she rarely found a reason to interact with anyone else. She watched, of course, especially Topher. But to engage in social conversation was a skill unknown to her.

As far as Claire could remember, no one in the Dollhouse referred to her by her first name. Everyone from Topher to Adelle called her Dr. Saunders. She knew her name was Claire but she never used it. So when Mr. Langton suggested she start calling him Boyd, she felt at a loss. She didn't know what to think or how to respond.

Slowly she grew accustomed to the informality. Then she spoke his first name aloud in another person's presence. Claire never did that before yet it simply slipped out when she was around Topher.

"Boyd?" he echoed with an amused noise. "What, are you guys buddies now?" He didn't wait for a response before going on: "Of course you are. You both disapprove of everything. You're going to get married and have scowly babies."

"Don't be an idiot," Claire retorted. She didn't like how humorous Topher found the situation. Why shouldn't she have a friend? Though the idea of it being more than that was ridiculous. No one would ever think of her that way. Especially not a man like Boyd.

_You're ugly. You're disgusting. All you can hope for now is pity._ She didn't get pity from Boyd. She got a strong man with a pleasant smile who confided in her. Claire felt less shattered when he was around.

She pulled up the file and saw the truth. She was nothing more than a broken Doll. It hurt her but Boyd was still there. He didn't see her differently. In his eyes she was still Claire Saunders. As broken and scarred as she was, that was who she wanted to be. If she got rid of her scars, if she were to wipe away the truth, it would be like dying. She didn't want to die.

Boyd looked into her eyes and called her Claire. _Claire_. Her first name heard from another person's lips. It was so wonderful, and completely hers.

"I didn't think I would see you again," Boyd remarked quietly. She stood on the front porch leading to his house fighting through the fear. She wanted to prove to herself she was stronger than Topher's program.

"I didn't have anywhere else to go," she answered. "I just… couldn't stay there. Not any longer."

"I understand," he nodded. His lips moved into a smile. "Would you like to come inside?"

She did, and was pleased that Boyd would help take off her lab coat. Moving farther inside revealed that his house was very nice. Very big for just one person. Claire hesitated but Boyd took her by the hand and led her onward. He gave her a tour, escorting her like a gentleman. His hand was strong and calloused against her skin.

"Do you have any plans now that you've left?" Boyd asked her when the tour was over.

"No." Claire shook her head. "All I know is that I want to decide for myself who I will be. I don't want to follow a program."

"You're stronger than any program, Claire," Boyd assured her, reaching up his hand to brush over her scarred cheek. That touch and the way his dark eyes looked at her made Claire shiver. No one ever looked at her that way before.

They were drawing close and Boyd's mouth pressed up against hers. Claire's first kiss. Her eyes fluttered close as her unsure hands rested lightly against his sides. To think that she almost gave this away to Topher, of all people. She'd been so broken and desperately lonely then. When Boyd kissed her those feelings went away.

"Make love to me, Boyd," she whispered against his lips. Gently he pulled away from her, his eyes studying her uncertainly.

"Are you sure that's what you want?"

"Yes." She slowly ran her hands up to rest against his chest. Claire felt him tremble at her touch. It amazed her that she of all people could have that power over a man like Boyd. "I've never been with anyone before," she mentioned.

Boyd took her into the bedroom. Claire saw naked male bodies all the time in the Dollhouse so she didn't bat an eye when Boyd unclothed himself. He undressed her as well and gently pushed her down on the bed. His eyes were intense and his body was powerful as he moved against her. Claire was suddenly grateful for her scars as his fingers and lips brushed over them.

To Alpha, she was a victim. To the Actives, she was a doctor. To Adelle, she was a broken doll. To Topher, she was god-knows-what. But to Boyd, she was simply Claire.

Boyd drifted off to sleep afterward but Claire stayed awake. Her body was used to keeping unusual hours. Quietly she slid out of bed, pulling on Boyd's shirt to wander around the house. It was so quiet here. So different from the Dollhouse. But she never felt more safe.

"Claire." She turned at her name to see Boyd there. He laced his arms around her waist, holding her gently. "What are you thinking about?"

"I'm thinking I would like to stay here," she answered, "if you would have me." He turned her in his arms so their eyes would meet. He hadn't bothered to dress and Claire's breath hitched up a little in anticipation.

Boyd cupped her face in his hands and gave her a deep, penetrating kiss. Claire's arms moved around his neck and he carried her back over to the bed. She welcomed him back inside her, aching for his touches.

"Boyd," she called out breathlessly.

"Claire," he answered back. She loved her name now. She loved everything about herself when she was in Boyd's arms. She finally felt like everything was going to be okay.

She could stay here and be Claire Saunders, and with Boyd's help she would slowly become real.


	10. Escalation

_**Escalation**_

Claire slipped on a black dress, dabbing a little perfume on her neck. A bottle of wine was uncorked and two glasses were poured. This was meant to be a romantic evening for herself and Boyd. When he walked in the room she could see that those plans were ruined.

"I think it's time we brought you in," he announced. She expelled a sigh. Somehow she knew she would have to go back to the Dollhouse sooner or later. She just hadn't expected it to be sooner.

"Do we get to have one drink first?" Claire asked, holding up a glass. Boyd brushed his fingers over her cheek and she knew there would be no time for pleasantries.

Claire hadn't set foot in the Dollhouse in months yet she still knew every inch of it. Her old office felt comfortable. She almost found it funny that her first patient was Topher. It was humorous enough to temporarily quell her dislike of the man. His stunned sputtering was the icing on the cake.

Back to work. Back to being Dr. Saunders. Her lab coat slid on easily, fitting against her like a new layer of skin. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to call it a mask.

"Less talking, less bleeding," she warned Topher as she dabbed at his cut lip. "And I mean that in so many ways."

"So you're the reason Boyd's been all tired these last few months," Echo remarked. "Glad to have you back."

"You may not be," Claire replied quietly. Just as Boyd had told her, Echo was evolved beyond all expectations. She was self-aware. It was a shame more couldn't follow her example.

Claire had no idea what was coming when she stepped back in the Dollhouse. Dominic breaking out of the Attic was a shock to her, and even more that he had the strength to speak. Rossum was coming and everyone had to leave the Dollhouse as their true selves.

Everyone except for Claire. No one said it to her but she knew it was so: she would never be her true self again. And she wanted it that way.

Unfortunately being Claire Saunders came with consequences. Most of them fears she thought she had overcome. Truthfully she only managed to do that because of Boyd. Now Boyd was leaving her. Claire was afraid again, more afraid than she ever felt in her life. It wasn't fair. She finally found some happiness and it was being taken away from her.

"I wish we had more time," she sobbed, clinging onto him.

"I know," Boyd answered, petting her hair tenderly. "I'll come back to you. You understand? I'll come back for you." And then he was gone. Claire was alone again.

She didn't know what to do or where to go. Feeling lost, she paced her office restlessly. The place felt too confining. She moved on and soon found herself walking up the stairs to the imprinting room. Why would she gravitate to Topher at a time like this? She hated him yet here she was hoping he would have an answer.

He was sitting with Bennett. He had a look on his face Claire never saw before. The starry eyes, the dreamy smile… Bennett spoke and Topher listened with admiration. Claire watched him stand up and turn away. Then suddenly he was back, cupping Bennett's face in his hands and kissing her. The sight made her heart stop in shock. The two exchanged kisses desperately, Topher wincing in pain from his cut lip but still coming back for more.

Claire watched all of this, a cold anger settling inside her. That man loved someone. Someone who was broken and socially awkward. Someone who at one time resented and perhaps even hated him.

"He's in love with you," Claire observed, alerting Bennett to her presence. Bennett turned, not understanding the implications of those words. "Claire," she introduced. "Claire Saunders. I was the house doctor." She paused, and added, "I used to be number one."

"Oh." What else could the girl say after that? "Yes, Topher did mention that. It's nice to meet you." Topher mentioned her? Claire found that interesting.

"Is that Caroline?" Claire wondered. She drew closer, innocently curious. "Do you really think you can get her back?"

"I'm confident of it." Bennett watched her with hope in her eyes. "Do you really think he likes me?"

"I didn't say 'likes'," Claire answered, smiling. This was purely girl-talk. Nothing suspicious.

"He's remarkable," Bennett remarked. She had stars in her eyes. She was in love with him, too.

"I… honestly didn't think he was capable of admitting the existence of another human being, let alone loving one." Claire looked directly into the other woman's eyes. "I think you're the remarkable one."

She couldn't have timed it better if she tried. Topher chose to come in just at that moment. Claire whipped out her gun and shot Bennett directly in her head. The blood splattered back, hitting Topher in the face. A very accurate shot. Topher stood there almost too stunned to breathe. Claire gave him a little nod and calmly walked away.

Everything Claire cared about was taken away from her. Why should Topher suddenly find happiness while Claire was left alone? No, Topher needed to be alone too. It was the only way. To watch the woman he loved being taken away in an instant, to have her blood on his face- that was the price he paid.

Claire didn't think about her own price; she paid more than enough.

"Claire." She recognized the voice and eagerly embraced Boyd, pressing kisses on his mouth.

"I thought I lost you," she breathed.

"I told you I would come back for you," he murmured gently.

"Now we can both run away," she said.

"…No." His face turned suddenly grim. "Claire, I'm so sorry."

"What do you-?" She was cut off as electricity shot painfully through her body. She lost consciousness and slumped into Boyd's arms.

It turned out Claire Saunders still had one last precious thing to lose.


	11. A Second Poem

_**A Second Poem**_

Damaged

Broken

Who was she?

Who is she?

Nothing

Thoughts, memories, precious moments

Everything built up inside

Gone

Destroyed

Erased

She breathes, she moves, she speaks

She is left empty

Dead

An empty shell

_Tabula Rasa_ again

Not her choice

She worked so hard

In a moment it meant nothing

Never trust, never feel, never love

Forget


	12. Reawakening

_**Reawakening**_

When she opened her eyes she found herself lying in a chair. But it wasn't just any chair; it was _that_ chair. If that wasn't enough to make her heart race anxiously, she quickly noticed what she was wearing. She closed her eyes to take in a steady breath. Slowly she exhaled then opened her eyes again.

"Who was using my body?" she demanded.

"Dr. Saunders…" She pushed herself out of the chair, tugging off the tie as quickly as her fingers could manage.

"I know someone else was here. I would never wear a suit." Claire waited, her eyes focusing on everyone else but Topher. Not that avoiding his gaze was difficult since he was doing the same. "Who was this?" she demanded.

"Clyde Randolf," Adelle responded. "One of the founders of the Rossum corporation." Claire took another steadying breath. She felt like she was breaking apart but she was unwilling to shatter completely.

"I'm going to take a shower," she announced as calmly as possible, "and change back into my clothes. I'll be back." With that she turned and walked out of the imprint room without another word.

She was very eager to get out of the suit. She stepped into the shower, feeling the hot water scald her skin. Claire endured it gratefully. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes and soon she was sobbing, clutching her wet body as it shook. No matter how hot she made the water she couldn't burn out the knowledge that someone else had used her body. It made her feel violated.

But worse than that was the undeniable certainty that she had died. Claire Saunders had been destroyed, however briefly. Someone killed her. The last thing she remembered before waking up in the chair…

Claire got out of the shower and toweled her body dry. She found her clothes, slipping into them and then her lab coat. Clyde's suit felt wrong against her body but these clothes were comfortable. They weren't a mask or even a costume; these clothes were what made her Claire Saunders.

She went back into the imprint room and saw the others waiting for her. They all looked worn out, both physically and emotionally. She must have missed more than she realized when she was… absent.

"Catch me up on what's been going on," she requested to no one in particular.

"We attacked Rossum head-on," Echo answered. "We destroyed its headquarters along with a lot of the tech." Claire nodded, knowing how big of a blow that must have been. But she also knew this wasn't going to be the end. There were twenty other Dollhouses still functioning, two in the United States.

Echo said they had cut the head off the snake, but Claire suspected it was more like cutting a head off the hydra: there were many heads, and cutting one off did nothing. Deep down the others probably knew that. Still, she was impressed Adelle would stand up to Rossum like that.

"If Mr. Randolf is anything like Mr. Ambrose, he has already imprinted himself in a new body," Adelle mentioned. "All the Dollhouses will know what happened in Tuscon."

"But then he'll come after us," Ballard said with a frown. "All of that was for nothing. Mellie-" His voice caught in his throat. "Mellie died protecting me. I can't let that be meaningless."

"Then we'd best come up with a plan," Adelle decided. "Mr. Ballard, perhaps you'd like to assist me." Ballard nodded numbly and followed her out of the room. The three Actives seemed so different to Claire now that they were all self-aware. Victor and Sierra were now Anthony and Priya. Claire could see the spark between them that somehow carried over from their Doll state.

Perhaps there was something in every Active that made them fight for their individuality

Claire decided to walk the length of the Dollhouse. She never saw the place so empty before. There was always something going on here: an engagement coming to a close, an imprint being uploaded, Actives wandering the halls… Now all was quiet. This place was like a shell of itself now, a true blank slate.

She found herself in the art room. When she was a doctor she never bothered to come here. The place made her feel slightly uneasy. Claire explored until she found where they kept the bonsai trees. Each one was labeled with an Active's name. She looked but she couldn't see Whiskey's bonsai tree anywhere.

"Ahh, Dr. Saunders?" She twitched before turning to face Topher. He stood nervous and frazzled as ever. "Is the, ah…" He paused, seemingly unwilling to use the word "imprint". Claire waited, knowing he would always find a way of expressing himself even if the words were childish. "Is everything okay?" he finally asked.

"You're wondering if the imprint is intact," she clarified. Topher responded with a sheepish shrug of his shoulders. "I never knew you to doubt your programming skills, Topher," Claire noted.

"Don't!" he snapped. He looked angry, but then his face crumbled. Claire never saw him like this before, either. He looked defeated.

"Topher? Where's Boyd?" His eyes widened in surprise. "It was him," Claire continued as steadily as she could manage. "The last thing I remember before waking up in the chair is Boyd. He tazered me." It still hurt her to think about and Claire had to close her eyes to gather herself together. "So what happened to him?"

"He, ah…" Topher cringed a bit, which told Claire he'd been anticipating this question. "He's… gone." Claire arched an eyebrow. Topher wrung his hands nervously. "He's dead. We had to!" he insisted before Claire could say anything. "He turned out to be one of the founders of Rossum! He betrayed us!"

Boyd was dead. Claire stood silent letting the knowledge sink in. It was painful, but not like the pain of knowing what he did to her. She looked into Topher's eyes and saw the pain there. Pain and guilt were two emotions Claire never expected to see on Topher's face, yet he wore them both now. He'd changed and he was struggling with it.

"I suppose it's only fair," Claire murmured quietly. "I killed the woman you loved, so you killed the man I loved."

"I…" Topher's eyes flickered away from her stare. "It wasn't like that. I had to, Claire." Claire's heart gave a funny jump in her chest, her breath pausing in her lungs.

"You called me Claire. You've never called me that before." Once again she rendered Topher silent. Usually this was when Claire would dig into open wounds. Not this time. "Adelle says that I was imprinted with another personality," she mentioned to change the subject.

"Yeah," Topher agreed, "that's right."

"Which means you put me back. Maybe it was by Adelle's orders, but you were still the one behind the chair. You could have imprinted me with the original one you built, but you didn't." Claire paced the floor, pausing in front of a work fingers brushed over the wood thoughtfully. "You put me back with all my memories and knowledge."

"Of course I did!" Topher finally met her gaze, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I told you before: you're not just an imprint. You're a person! You've evolved beyond your programming. If I put back the original Saunders imprint, all that evolution would've been lost. You wouldn't be _you_ anymore."

"And being 'me' is important to you?" Claire asked him.

"It is." Claire was at a loss for words, and eventually walked out of the room.

She didn't think she would ever understand that man. But she was alive, and it was because of him.


	13. Strange Changes

_**Strange Changes**_

The place was dark, something that never would have happened in the past. But these days they needed to be even more hidden. The only things still running were the refrigerator and the chair. Many questioned keeping the chair running but it was necessary to keep memories in case of emergency. For now this place was safe but none of them knew how long that would last.

No one used the yoga room anymore, or the art room, or climbed the rock wall, or got massages. It was all about survival now. None of them could afford those simple pleasures. Though there were more people, the House seemed emptier somehow. Without the bright lights and the shuffle of Dolls, it was just a shell to hide in.

Claire walked through the large rooms handing out blankets or water bottles. She ran out of lollipops a long time ago and it seemed foolish to get more when there were more important supplies they needed. Still, she wished she had them now. They always made her patients happy, and people could use a little happiness.

She went in to the sleeping area. Most didn't use it anymore. There was one, though, and that was who Claire was going to see. Candles surrounded one of the pods, giving off a warm glow. She could see a shape curled up inside the pod. Carefully she knelt down next to the pod.

"Topher," she called out. She waited, and in a moment the man's head popped up. "How are you feeling today?"

"It's you!" he gasped. He quickly scrambled out of the pod, fingers latching onto her lab coat. "I know you!"

"Yes," Claire confirmed. "You do."

"You look different," Topher noted, frowning. His fingers reached out to brush against her cheek. His eyes flickered over the woman's face uncertainly. "Epidermis completely reconstructed," he muttered.

"My scars," the doctor clarified. Her hand lifted to touch his and gently guided it away from her face. "You're right, I had them removed. I decided I didn't need them anymore." That got a little smile to move over Topher's face. "Did you eat today?" she asked, resuming her duties.

"Same question asked before," he noted, fingers now going to his lips. He always had a way of using his hands while he spoke and now it happened much more frequently. "She came in and asked me. Sometimes I forget."

"So Adelle was already here." Most found it difficult to understand Topher these days, but Claire had no trouble at all. She wasn't sure if this was because of her imprint or just from knowing him for years. Adelle was growing almost as skilled so Claire liked to think it was the latter. "In that case, I'll read to you."

That got Topher to light up. He clamored back into his pod eagerly. Claire rummaged through his belongings until she found the books. When she read to Topher she stuck with a few stories that seemed to please him: Alice in Wonderland, Hansel and Gretel, The Snow Queen, and sometimes if he were feeling especially alert she would read him a comic book. She didn't know why she gravitated toward those stories but Topher seemed to enjoy them.

Today it was The Snow Queen. Topher listened to the whole thing, his fingers twisting his blanket when Claire got to the part about spelling "eternity" in the ice. It looked like this would be one of Topher's good days. Later when she needed to administer his medicine Topher took it without protest.

"I'll be back," Claire promised him.

"Wait!" Topher grabbed at her lab coat again. "Have to tell you: don't go in the art room. Blood, death, screaming. Stay this way." Claire couldn't fight the sad look that crossed her face.

"I will," she promised, and quietly walked away.

They couldn't stay down here forever. It was getting harder to make supply runs without being tracked or caught. Butchers were increasing, salivating at the buffet that hid below. At the moment they were waiting on word from Echo or Alpha. Strange that after all those two did to take down the Dollhouse, they would be the ones trying to save its people.

When Echo finally did come back, she made the unexpected request of a back-up wedge. It seemed like everyone was taking precautions.

"You know, Echo," Claire began thoughtfully. "If someone does come back here, they'll need a programmer to upload all of these memories."

"Fair point," the girl agreed. There was a heavy silence as the implications settled in. "You're going to stay here?"

"I think that's best," the doctor nodded.

"Doc, you can lose yourself if you do this. You know that, right?"

"I don't think I will," Claire argued. "I've seen how you, Alpha, Priya and Anthony all fought against the imprints. You all found your true selves. I would like to do the same. Whoever I am, I don't think that will change."

Echo was at a loss for words. Then suddenly she reached out and pulled Claire in for a tight hug. "It was an honor knowing you, Claire Saunders," she whispered. Claire responded with a smile, then keyed in the command to start the back-up process.

Adelle started gathering everyone together for the exodus. They would be going into a place that they called Safe Haven. Alpha built it so it was sure to be free from the tech. Adelle was having a difficult time coaxing Topher out of his pod. Finally Claire decided to try her luck.

"I think I know why you chose this pod out of all the others," she mentioned when she arrived. Topher glanced up at her, fingertips clinging onto the sleeves of his shirt. "This is my pod, isn't it? It belonged to Whiskey."

"Whiskey," Topher repeated thoughtfully. His eyes widened when he recognized the name. "Whiskey! Whiskey, I'm so sorry. Alpha… It was my fault. All of it was my fault."

"I forgive you," she assured him. She reached out, brushing tenderly through his hair. "I don't hate you anymore." Topher didn't say anything but he looked relieved. Claire offered him a smile. He smiled back, almost looking like his old self.

_I don't know you and you don't know me. That's the contract._ Topher told her that a long time ago. But they did know each other, better than anyone else.

"I'm sorry for what I did," Claire whispered. "I'm sorry for killing her. Can you ever forgive me, Christopher?"

"Analise!" he gasped out, eyes going wide.

"I could wake her up," Claire offered quietly.

"No." Topher shook his head. "I don't want her to see me this way."

"Then I'll stay instead." Claire put a hand on his shoulder and got another smile from Topher's lips.

"Until I come back?" he asked.

"Yes," Claire nodded. "I'll wait here. Always."

"Always," Topher repeated, clinging onto her. Claire found she didn't really mind his touch. It reminded her of something. Perhaps from when she was Whiskey, or from even farther in the past…

Perhaps from Analise.


	14. Goodnight, Claire

_**Goodnight, Claire**_

The first thing she got rid of was her lab coat. There was no more need to wear it since she wasn't acting as a doctor any longer. After that went her shoes. Her heels clicking over the tiled floor echoed loudly in the silent House. Claire found the noise too strange; going barefoot kept the place quiet.

One day she stood in front of the mirror and wondered why she should bother with changing out of her nightgown. There was no one in the House to see her; she had no reason to dress up. Although she knew that, it was hard for Claire to not get dressed. Once she got used to it she felt much more free.

She already knew every inch of the Dollhouse but now she walked the halls without hindrance. All the cameras were off so there were no recordings of where she chose to walk. There were no Actives coming into her office with their various minor injuries or looking for regular check-ups. No lights came from the imprinting room. All was quiet now.

At first Claire enjoyed being alone. The silence gave her time to sort through everything that happened. At that time it felt like floundering in rising water. The waters had subsided and Claire could wade at her leisure. But then the days continued without deviation and slowly Claire lost track of time altogether. It wasn't such a great thing being alone after that.

She went into the art room and found all the trees had died without anyone to attend them. There was nothing she could do so she just left them. The yoga and massage areas were pointless places. Sometimes Claire still swam in the pool to get in some exercise but other than that she kept away.

It was harder for Claire to remember how long she'd been in the House alone. She closed her eyes and listed the names of everyone who left, and wondered if they were still alive. She remembered them all but their faces were fuzzy in her mind's eye. It was important for her to remember _everything_.

Claire made her way back to the imprinting room. She accessed Topher's computer and pulled up the files of all the Actives who ever walked those halls. One by one she began printing out their pictures. Caroline Farrell, also know as Echo. Priya Tsetsang, also known as Sierra. Anthony Ceccoli, also known as Victor. Madeline Costley, also known as November. Carl William Craft, also known as Alpha. Claire brought them all back in her mind.

When Claire came to her own file, she hesitated. Here again was a chance to see her old name. It was just a click away. Claire's heart beat loudly inside her chest. Shakily her finger clicked the mouse, and the photo began to print. Once it was done she deleted the file.

She didn't need that file to tell her who she was; she already knew.

Cradling the pictures delicately in her hands as if they were fragile, Claire made her way up to Adelle's office. There she tacked every single one of them up on the wall. Above them she put two words: To Remember.

Every day she tried to go up there at least once to look at the faces and recite names out loud. It kept them all alive for her and helped her to feel less alone. Then she would wander down to Topher's pod and spend hours reading out loud from his books. She printed out his picture, too, and stuck it inside his pod so it would always be there when she came.

It might have been months or only just weeks after that when Claire mounted the stairs to the imprint room once again. Topher gave her the knowledge to work the chair. She keyed in the proper commands to start the machines working.

In truth she didn't know if her contract was up, or even if it was ever intended to be over. What she did know was that Claire Saunders gave everything she had for the Dollhouse. She dedicated herself to it and its people. Claire Saunders deserved to rest. Besides, if she was strong enough she would retain what she needed with or without the imprint.

Carefully Claire settled into the chair and felt it start to lower.

"Claire Saunders," she said aloud. It would be the last time that name would ever be spoken.

The last thing Claire saw was a bright light.


	15. A Final Poem

_**A Final Poem**_

Find all the pieces

To spell eternity

But never remember the word

Always slips away

Just out of reach

Try again

Don't know yourself

Don't know him

A contract

Signing self away

It remains

Just below the surface

Asleep for a little while

Everything is going to be all right

Soul never wipes away

Different names

Crystal

Whiskey

Claire

Claude

Only masks

Broken but not lost

Cross the board and become a queen

Find a way out of the woods

Not a monster

Not a phantom

Not even a broken doll

A person named….

"Did I fall sleep?"


End file.
